


Breathe Each Breath You Breathe

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Felicity, as much as I love being your dessert..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Each Breath You Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 100th post here and, for some reason, something M-rated felt right ;) As always, many thanks to **effie214** for the prompt. 
> 
> Title taken from Keith Urban's _I'm In_.

“Still can’t believe...” He tosses his jacket on bench inside the door, suspenders cutting into his damp shirt. “She spilled the whole tray.”

“At least it was the champagne and not the red wine.” Pushing the door closed, she drops their keys on top of his coat. “You would think they’d teach waitresses not to be distracted by well-dressed body guards.”

“I don’t think there’s an official server’s school and— Wait, did John look better than me or—”

“No, you were just very clearly otherwise occupied.” She grins, hands fisting in his shirt as she begins to pull it free.

Tugging it open, she pushes one side beneath the suspenders, laps her tongue over the hollow of his throat, across his shoulder, where, unbelievably, a few stray drops have pooled.

She moans, fingers curling around his bicep as she presses kisses high on his chest—

It’s— _he’s_ —intoxicating.

His hands settle low on her waist, his damp jaw set as she kicks off her shoes, steps back and studies him.

Her mouth curls up slowly, head tipping to the side.

And then she’s on him again, fingers clutching at the suspenders as she kisses him and kisses him.

He groans, lips rough on hers as she backs him against their couch and then she’s slipping the suspenders down his shoulders, scraping her teeth along his collarbone as she sucks at the sweet stickiness of his skin.

“Delicious.”

“Felicity...”

“Mmm.” She ignores the warning note in his voice, presses her mouth to his throat as his fingers skim lazily along her spine, toy with the zipper of her dress.

“Felicity, as much as I love being your dessert, this shirt...” He vainly tries to tug it away from his skin, but it’s useless.

The champagne has plastered it to him.

“Right.” She grins, teeth cutting into her lower lip. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

She peels the rest of the shirt off as quickly as possible, inhales sharply as her knuckles graze his erection and he jolts against her.

Lifting an eyebrow at him, she brushes her lips over his before crashing into him again, hands blindly shoving his pants and boxers off as he pulls her even closer and they topple over the back of the couch.

They land with a soft thud, arms and legs tangled, his eyes bright with laughter and lust and love as his fingers twist in the hem off her dress and he pulls it up and off her, flinging it behind his head.

Her bra and panties soon follow, their gazes—happy and warm and _god, yes, I’m with you always_ —meeting as her knees bracket his and she sinks home.

His hands settle low on her back as she leaves and returns to him, quickly setting a frantic pace, and he strokes his thumb across her skin, matching her rhythm.

Pushing up on his elbows, he grins as she meets him halfway, lips crashing together in a scalding kiss.

“God, so...” Her teeth tug at his lower lip and he sighs, feels his breath catch, as her tongue soothes any pain away.

“I know... Fuck, I know...”  Pressing his feet flat against the cushion, he lifts his knees, thighs cradling her ass. She moans in response, head falling back as she takes him in more fully. “Yeah, ‘Licity, let go... Ride me...” His fingers flex in the curve of her waist, hips lifting as the couch bangs against the end table.

“Yes, Oliver, yes, I’m... Oh shit, yes... Oliverrrr...” She tips forward, mouth desperate on his, body shaking in his arms as the pleasure takes her.

Crashes over her again and again.

He rocks up twice more and then he’s flying after her, eyes slammed shut, head pounding against the arm of the couch as he comes.

Gasping, he smooths his hand up the outside her thigh, smiles lazily as she presses her chest to his, her fingers flitting across his jaw in the way they always do in this moment.

The way that makes him feel cherished and warm.

Like he could overcome wardrobe malfunctions (masked or not) or take over Wayne Enterprises, fly to the moon, as long as she’s beside him.

“Hey, since we had to leave early, why don’t I get the mint chip ice cream and two spoons? It might melt before we get to it though...” His fingers curl over the nape of her neck, mouth curves against hers. “After all, _you’re_ my favorite flavor...”


End file.
